Abstract
There can be few aficionados of electronic dance music who have not come across the term ‘dub’. Its ubiquity within contemporary dance cultures is conspicuous. However, its roots lie not in contemporary dance music per se, nor within Anglo-American, white, middle-class cultures, but within the ska and reggae sound system culture that emerged in Jamaica in the 1960s. ‘Dub’ refers to a process of deconstruction, by which the engineer strips music down to its basic rhythm components, introduces novel elements, and thereby provides a new interpretation of the material. While such processes are very common within contemporary electronic music, their origins are not well known and often misunderstood. Focusing on the work of King Tubby and Lee Perry, this article maps the emergence of dub and, in so doing, both indicates its wider significance and posits a particularunderstanding of its genesis. Whilst it is recognized that the early history of dub is complex, being the result of a confluence of various streams of Jamaican musical creativity, and whilst key figures such as Joe Gibbs, Errol Thompson, Sylvan Morris, and Augustus Pablo need to be discussed in any comprehensive account, the article argues that its genesis can be traced to one engineer in particular, King Tubby. Keywords: dub; Jamaica; King Tubby; Lee Perry; reggae

Introduction
The term ‘dub’ is now used widely and indiscriminately by producers of dance and ambient music. More particularly, as the British post-punk producer Adrian Sherwood has commented, ‘everything from hiphop to techno and every other form of music right now has stolen ideas off dub, or incorporated those ideas’
(quoted in Hawkins 1996; see Veal 2007: 2). While there is obvious hyperbole here, the point is nevertheless an important one. The influence of dub permeates much contemporary electronica, dance, and urban music. Indeed, there is an increasingly wide range of contemporary music that is explicitly and conspicuously indebted to dub, from the dance-oriented rock of a band like Death in Vegas to the indigenous Moroccan music of Aisha Kandisha’s Jarring Effects, and from the relatively recent work of Primal Scream back to the punk and post-punk music of bandssuch as The Clash, PIL, Terrorists, Killing Joke, Bad Brains, and even the Welsh-speaking Anhrefn, some of whose album BWRW CWRW (1989) was mixed by the British dub pioneer the Mad Professor. The term ‘dub’ evolved out of earlier terminology used in the recording industry in the United States.1 This is significant because we will see that the genre has remained fundamentally related to recording technology. Traditionally known as ‘black wax’, ‘soft wax’, ‘slate’ or ‘reference disc’—and in the manufacturing sector as an ‘acetate’—the dub plate was a metal plate with a fine coating of vinyl. Recorded music would be pressed on to the dub plate, following which a ‘stamper’2 or metal master disc would be created in order to produce quantities of vinyl records. The process of transferring the music on to the vinyl-coated metal plate was known as ‘dubbing’—just as adding sound to a film is also known as dubbing. Hence, the terms ‘dub’ and ‘dub plate’ are not solely allied to the genre of ‘dub’. However, the point is that, with the demand for exclusive, unreleased music in Jamaican sound system culture (in which sound systems competed for audiences by, amongst other things, playing new music), the trade in ‘pre-release’ dub plates grew (see Stolzoff 2000: 50ff.). And it is within this culture, hungry for new sounds and ideas, that the genre of ‘dub’ emerged. The term dub, in the sense of a musical genre, was, therefore, originally applied to a remixing techniquepioneered by Jamaican engineers and producers who were seeking novel and exclusive music (i.e. ‘specials’) for sound system use. So successful was the technique that it quickly evolved as a relatively inexpensive and creative way of reusing rhythm tracks. Essentially, recording engineers produced tracks on which their efforts were often more evident than those of the original musicians. Indeed, the mixing desk and even the recording studio itself came to be understood as a musical instrument in that, in a similar way to a jazz musician’s improvisation on a standard tune, the engineer is involved in the reconceptualization of a piece of music. However, this is a very different type of instrument, in that, as a remixing technique, it is alchemical in its effects. As Jonathon Tankel puts it, ‘remixing is
1. For a good overview of the way the term has been variously used in Jamaica, see Veal 2007: 61–4. 2. The term quickly found its way into dub culture: e.g. Stamper Doctor, Dub Zone (1979).


recoding, the reanimation of familiar music by the creation of new sonic textures for different sonic contexts… The remix recording creates a new artefact from the schemata of previously recorded music. It is prima facie evidence of [Walter] Benjamin’s contention that “to an ever greater degree the work of art reproduced becomes the work of art designed for reproducibility” ’ (quoted in Frith1996: 242; on the studio technology and compositional strategies of dub, see Veal 2007: 64–80).

From instrumental to version
In their ‘rough guide’ to reggae, Steve Barrow and Peter Dalton helpfully identify three phases in the evolution of dub: firstly, the instrumental; secondly, the version; and finally, dub (1997: 199). Having said that, although some, such as Dick Hebdige (1987: 82), wrongly conflate instrumentals and dub, the principal shift is between the instrumental and the version, dub being simply a later, more sophisticated development of the version (see Corbett 1994: 129). Indeed, the terms were almost synonymous, many dubs simply being referred to as ‘versions’. This is still true today, a good example being the work of Ray Garza and Rob Hilton as The Thievery Corporation (e.g. Versions). Similarly, the Berlin-based Mark Ernestus and Moritz von Oswald, who influenced the development of techno-house and electronica in the 1990s, have, since 1996, as Rhythm and Sound, released some striking roots reggae tracks with artists such as Sugar Minott and Cornell Campbell, most of which have B-side dubs, which they prefer to term ‘versions’—the A-side tracks, which are already heavily dubbed, are stripped down even further into deep, bassoriented ‘versions’ (e.g. The Versions; ‘See Mi Version’ on See Mi Yah). The first phase in the evolution of dub was the recording of ‘instrumentals’ principally for sound system use. These were simply versions ofreggae songs from which the vocals had been removed. This development, it appears, happened quite by accident. In the late-1960s, Rudolph ‘Ruddy’ Redwood, a wealthy and influential entrepreneur who had, in 1957, established a record store and then a small fourspeaker sound system (Ruddy’s Supreme Ruler of Sound—SRS Sound System) in Spanish Town, was accidentally given a ‘soft wax’ (i.e. ‘dub plate’) without the vocals added. It was quickly recognized by him to be a promising development. However, as is often the case with oral histories, there are several variations of this catalyzing event and the context that occasioned it. According to Bradley’s sources, ‘the music business was by now nationwide, and record men…had to consider more than their immediate environment’. Thus, they began doing what would have been ‘unthinkable five years previously’, namely ‘giving unique, unreleased soft waxes to other sound systems’ (2000: 312). In other words, the previewing of ‘dubs’, which producers had formerly restricted to the patrons of their own sound systems, was now broadened to include other deejays, with whom, of course, they






were not in competition. As Redwood himself put it, ‘I get involve with Duke Reid, Coxsone [Dodd], and then I started gettin’ [exclusive] records from Duke Reid mostly—they call it dubs that time, yunno, special records’ (quoted in Barrow and Dalton 1997: 200). It wasthis distribution of acetates prior to their commercial release that led to the revolutionary ‘mistake’. The dubs were sent to Redwood via Byron Smith, one of Duke Reid’s Treasure Isle studio engineers.
His Treasure Isle sound system specials came via a disc cutter called Smith, who one day offered him a cut of The Paragons’ “On the Beach” (featuring John Holt) that he had, quite literally, forgotten to put the vocal track on. As he accepted the tune, Redwood was immediately aware of the possibilities of revisiting what was a proven popular record (it had already been released as a huge hit), and that night played the vocal and instrumental versions back to back. By the time the second record was a few bars in the entire lawn3 was singing along, and, according to those who were there, it was a totally spine-tingling moment… (Bradley 2000: 312).

When Duke Reid, a gifted entrepreneur, heard of the success of this instrumental version, he was likewise not slow to recognize the commercial opportunities this new development presented, and in the following year he reintroduced a stream of his old classics as instrumentals. Bunny Lee, however, relates a slightly different version of the key event. Indeed, Lee’s understanding is particularly appealing, since he claims to have been there at the time with King Tubby, who would later become the principal architect of dub.
The first man who really start version by mistake is a man from Spanish Town named Ruddy,another wealthy man who can help himself. Him inna racehorses and him have a record shop and a big night club ’cross Fort Henderson, so when him come a Duke Reid and Coxsone, them give him any tape he want. One evening them a cut a dubplate—soft wax they used to call it. When them cut, it’s difficult to put in the voice, and Smithy a go stop it and Ruddy say, ‘No, make it run’. When it done, him say it art, and me and Tubbys stand up right there so, me look ’pon Tubbys and Tubbys look ’pon me. Saturday night him drop the singing cut first and the deejay name Wassy said, ‘I’m going to play part two!’ and the whole dancehall start to sing the song ’pon the pure rhythm—him have to play it about ten, fifteen times because it’s something new. I say, ‘boy Tubbs, you see the mistake whe Smithy make? A serious thing. The people a Spanish Town love it! You have to start something like that’ (quoted in Katz 2004: 166). 3. Sound systems played to increasingly large gatherings in what were known as ‘dancehalls’. However, the ‘halls’ were usually large, flattened, enclosed pieces of land known as ‘lawns’, which had been cleared for the purpose of dancing. These large and loud sound system events became important social gatherings at which there would be stalls selling fruit juices, beer, and traditional Jamaican dishes. Owners of cafés, for example, ordered powerful amplifiers from North America or, increasingly, had systems built by local electricians in Jamaica. Thesheer volume of such systems had the effect of rapidly drawing a large audience when played in the open-air.






While there is not a great deal to separate the two accounts, Redwood’s own recollection of events, recorded by Barrow and Dalton, seems to support Bradley’s account: ‘I was playin’ at a dance one night and I was playin’ this record [The Paragons’ “On the Beach”]—it was released as a 45 before, but in those times they don’t put the version on one side… So I was playin’ it and it was nice for the people, so I went back to Smith—Smithy’s was his name—he was cuttin’ some dubs for me’ (quoted in Barrow and Dalton 1997: 200). As Smith worked through the tapes of ‘On the Beach’, recalled Redwood, he inadvertently omitted the vocal track. Redwood liked what he heard. He continues: ‘They used to call me Mister Midnight in Spanish Town. I used to come in at midnight and play fifteen or sixteen new music that nobody know about… I start playin’… I put on “On the Beach” and I said “I’m gonna turn this place into a studio”, and I switch over from the singing part to the version part, cut down the sound and, man, you could hear the dance floor rail, man—everybody was singing. It was very happy and I get a vibe’ (quoted in Barrow and Dalton 1997: 200; see also Barrow 1995: 29–30). Following this success, Redwood lost no time in cutting instrumentals of other popular Duke Reid tracks toplay at his dances. Hence, whatever the precise details of this pivotal event, it is clear that, should we wish to identify a point at which the various cultural, musicological and technical developments of reggae begin to coalesce into the distinct, embryonic form of dub, it is here. What can be understood as the second phase of the evolution of dub built on the success of the instrumental. Around the end of 1968 studio engineers began to take a greater role in the creation of what, by 1970, were termed ‘versions’. It should be noted that this is rather different to other understandings of the ‘version’ within popular music. For example, Simon Frith has argued that a version is essentially a good cover of a song. It refers, he says, ‘to a situation in which the “copy” is taken to improve on the original, to render it “bad’ by revealing what it could have been’. For example, ‘black covers of white originals are routinely valued positively (Ray Charles singing “I Can’t Stop Loving You”), and rock arrangers are taken to make pop songs more interesting…’ (1996: 70). Reggae versions, however, aren’t necessarily an improvement on the original and, moreover, nor do they try to be. Rather, they are interpretations—texts that have been translated into a different musical language. Bunny Lee recalls what he believes to be the first use of the term ‘version’ in this sense: ‘Tubbys just a bang on to U Roy [his deejay—Ewart Beckford]. U Roy come in an’ say, “PartTwo, another version” on “Too Proud to Beg” with Slim Smith, and so the name version come in’ (quoted in Katz 2004: 166). By the end of the 1960s, versions were rapidly becoming the preferred way to produce B-sides for Jamaican








singles. On the one hand, they were enormously popular both with the public and also with the sound system deejays such as U Roy, who would talk over them, and, on the other hand, they cut down on the costs that would normally be incurred when recording a separate track for the B-side of a single. The latter, of course, was an important consideration for a form of popular music that was principally developed by artists with very little capital.5 Indeed, ‘riddims’ were often recycled into new versions several times over. For example, one of my personal favourites, K. C. White’s ‘No, No, No’, has been recycled numerous times. Although not strictly speaking a dub version, it was perhaps most famously reworked by Big Youth as ‘Screaming Target’, ‘Screaming Target (Version 2)’, and ‘Concrete Jungle’, all of which appeared on his seminal 1973 album Screaming Target. Another popular rendering of it, produced by Sly Dunbar, is Dawn Penn’s ‘You Don’t Love Me (No, No, No) (Extended Remix)’, on her No, No, No (1994). Again, a particularly creative dub version of it, ‘Behind Iron Bars’, was included on African Dub All-Mighty: Chapter 4, produced by Joe Gibbs and ErrolThompson. More recently, the British bassist Jah Wobble has provided his own interpretation on Jah Wobble and the English Roots Band (2006). As some confirmation of Benjamin’s observations about works of art designed for reproduction, in the era of dub and remix culture, it’s not surprising that whole LPs were released that were essentially compilations of versions of a single ‘riddim’. The LP that began this trend, and one of the best examples of it, was produced by Rupie Edwards, namely Yamaha Skank. (A recent example of such an album is devoted to interpretations of The Ruts’ punk classic ‘Babylon’s Burning’: Babylon’s Burning Reconstructed: Dub Drenched Soundscapes). Versions, of course, were not always instrumentals. They were often much closer to what we would now understand to be a dub remix. The core of the version was the rhythm, in that the bass and drums were brought to the fore, while the vocals and other instrumentation took a secondary role, being introduced and dropped out at the engineer’s discretion. That said, it should be noted that, as Katz comments, ‘rhythm tracks had already been used for more than one purpose

4. It should be noted that, a little confusingly, the term ‘deejay’ came to refer to a vocalist in Jamaican music, an artist who voices over riddims, rather than the ‘selector’, who selects and spins the records. Moreover, a deejay ‘toasts’, ‘chats’, ‘chants’, or ‘voices’ over riddims, rather than sings (‘a singer’) or sings andtoasts (‘a singjay’). 5. It should be noted that, while the standard explanation for the production of ‘versions’ often focuses on poverty and necessity being the mother of invention, as I have sought to show in this chapter and as Peter Manuel and Wayne Marshall have argued, the reality is rather more complex than this. ‘The reliance on riddims is better seen as being conditioned by and constituting part of the entire evolution of modern Jamaican music culture, including its special emphasis on sound systems and studio production, rather than live bands’ (2006: 448–9).






before Ruddy and Tubby’s experiments. At Studio One,6 in 1965, for instance, Roland Alphonso blew sax on a song called “Rinky Dink”, using the rhythm of Lee Perry and the Dynamites’ “Hold Down” with the vocals removed’ (2004: 166). However, as we will see, versions were quite distinctive in several respects, most notably for their foregrounding of the rhythm and their emphasis on the role of the engineer. For example, of particular note in the evolution of the version was ‘Phantom’ (1970) by Clancy Eccles, which, while an instrumental, was untypical in that it stripped the track down to the bassline. As such, it introduced the remixing technique that would become central to the development of dub.

King Tubby and the advent of dub
It is now generally agreed that dub, in the contemporary sense of a fundamentallydeconstructed version, first appeared in 1972 and was largely the creation of a single engineer, King Tubby (Osbourne Ruddock), who is now considered by many to be a towering influence, ‘a giant of sonic history’ (Prendergast 2000: 458). Taking his moniker from his mother’s maiden name, Tubman, by all accounts he was a self-effacing man. Vivienne Goldman’s memory of him is worth quoting: ‘I met King Tubby. I went to his house with Kate Simons and remember that he was very charming and soft-spoken… He was sort of graceful, a low-key and laid-back individual. I remember that he had this filing cupboard… [and] he pulled open the bottom drawer, gets out this crown and puts it on his head for the pictures, bless him, entering into the showman role. He was obviously a very thoughtful, deep and creative sort of guy…’ (quoted in Colegrave and Sullivan 2001: 203—see perhaps the most well-known photo of Tubby wearing the crown on the opposite page, 202). Tubby’s Home Town Hi-Fi, his Kingston sound system, which he formed in 1958 when he was only 17, quickly found success. Indeed, although it was termed ‘Hi-Fi’ because it was considerably smaller than other sound systems, nevertheless, at an event held in the Penwood district in the early 1960s, he was declared ‘King of the Dancehall’. Thus he became ‘King Tubby’. Bearing in mind his equipment’s lack of power, it would seem that this appellation was given to him because of his

6. The Jamaica Recording andPublishing Studio, known as Studio One, founded by Coxsone Dodd in October 1963, was enormously important for the evolution of Jamaican popular music. Although some have claimed that this was the first studio owned by an African Jamaican, in actual fact Linden Pottinger had already set up his Gay Disc recording studio on Molynes Road in 1961. Studio One’s significance relates to its fundamental role in popularization and development of ska. It was also the home of one of Jamaica’s finest recording engineers and producers of dub, Sylvan Morris. Indeed, it was Morris who was largely responsible for moulding the Studio One sound. For his distinctive dub-style, listen particularly to his Morris on Dub (1975) and (with Harry J) Cultural Dub (1978).






creative experimentation with sound, an interest and skill which would eventually become central to his development of dub. Successful though he was as a sound system operator, as the 1960s progressed his creative skills came to the fore in the recording studio, having become, during the late-1960s, a noted engineer at Duke Reid’s Treasure Isle studio. Whilst, again, using relatively basic equipment in his own studio—situated at the back of his home, 18 Dromily Avenue, Penwood, Kingston—Tubby developed the version, manipulating sounds in ways that are widely acknowledged to have been truly avant-garde (see, for example: Barrow 1995: 30–1; Barrow andDalton 1997: 199; Bradley 2000: 314; Chang and Chen 1998: 45; Cox and Warner 2004: 113, 403; Hebdige 1987: 83; Prendergast 2000: 372; Toop 1995: 116; Veal 2007). By 1972 he had acquired a dub cutting machine—on which he could now make acetates for his and others’ sound systems—and a two-track tape machine. He had also built his own mixer. Indeed, in a very real sense, for Tubby the art of dub impacted all stages of his work—the whole production process was dubbed. The renewing and reinventing was not simply musicological, but it was also technological, in that the very equipment used to produce the music was itself often a modification, a version of an original piece of equipment. For example, Prince (now ‘King’) Jammy (Lloyd James)—a friend and apprentice of Tubby who has since become one of Jamaica’s most successful producers—comments that ‘the reverb unit that we used to use there was a Fisher reverb, an’ we change it to become a King Tubby and Fisher! The slides that we used to use, we change them from the original slides, because the mixin’ console was so old you couldn’t get replacement parts. We use other models to incorporate in that console’ (quoted in Barrow and Dalton 1997: 205). Again, he constructed an echo delay unit ‘by passing a loop of tape over the heads of an old two-track machine’ (Barrow 1994). In other words, as with other early producer-engineers, such as Jammy (see Lesser 2002: 17), Tubby’s background in electrical engineering enabledhim to construct the equipment he needed to produce the innovative sounds he was looking for. In 1972, his creativity was given greater scope when, as a result of a deal brokered by Bunny Lee with Byron Lee’s Dynamic Studios, he was able to purchase their old four-track mixing desk. Gradually, as Tubby’s fame spread, his work began to grow, as producers left their tapes with him. Indeed, the increased volume of music that was being left with him seems to have encouraged him toward greater experimentation. Dub had now evolved into a distinctive musical genre. Not only did Tubby’s experiments receive an enthusiastic reception almost immediately, but his sound system, Tubby’s Home Town Hi Fi, deejayed by U Roy, quickly became one of the leading sound systems in Jamaica. Part of the reason for this was undoubtedly because, from the outset, Tubby was interested in the aural experience of his audience, rather than simply producing good tunes to dance to.


For example, not only was he the first to use separate tweeter boxes, but, again, his was possibly the first sound system to experiment with a reverb unit.7 According to Dennis Alcapone (Dennis Smith),
Tubby’s was definitely the greatest sound ever to come out of Jamaica, in terms of the arrangements and the equipment and everything else. The technology and everything was just mind-boggling really. Them time, when you listen to KingTubby’s sound, it look like it going to blow your mind. I listen to a lot of the sounds, like Duke Reid, Coxsone, and the whole of them, they was just normal sound, bringing out normal voices with normal bass and everything. Duke Reid and Coxsone, I think their tubes was 807, which is some big tubes, and their bass, it was heavy but it was not as round as the KT 88 that Tubby’s came with. KT 88 was a smaller tube, and his bass was something else, it was just round like when you’re kneading flour. With the 807, when the bass hit the box, you hear the box vibrate, but Tubby’s now, the bass was just so solid. Then he brought in reverb, which wasn’t introduced to the public before, reverb and echo… Tubbys have some steel [speakers] they used to put up in the trees, and when you listen to that sound system, especially at night when the wind is blowing the sound all over the place, it was wicked! (quoted in Katz 2000: 142; see also the similar comments made by U Roy in Katz 2004: 165).

As noted above, with the advent of Tubby’s four-track studio in 1972, versions quickly evolved into what we now know as dub, which became established with a series of B-sides mixed by King Tubby and released between 1972 and 1974 on the following labels: Lee Perry’s Justice League and Upsetter; Glen Brown’s Pantomine; Roy Cousins’ Wambesi; U Roy’s own Mego Ann; Augustus Pablo’s Hot Stuff and Rockers; Winston Riley’s Techniques; Prince Tony Robinson’s High School; Bunny Lee’sJackpot; and Carlton Patterson’s Black and White. More significant still during this early period, was the fact that, not only was Tubby working on B-sides, he was also beginning to record whole albums of dub, one of the most important of which was Blackboard Jungle Dub (1973)—originally entitled Upsetters 14 Dub Blackboard Jungle—produced by Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry (Rainford Hugh Perry). Not only is this one of the first dub albums and certainly the
7. According to Lloyd the Matador, Tubby heard the reverb ‘sometime in 1960’ at one of his dances in the yard at Brown’s Funeral Parlour: ‘King Tubby came to the dance as an admirer of my sound. He asked if I could give him a circuit diagram for the reverb my sound was using, so I sat on one of the coffins that was in the yard, draw the circuit, and gave Tubbys. That was the reverb that Tubbs built from my circuit diagram and used on his sound system for a long time’ (quoted in Katz 2004: 165). 8. There are actually four dub albums that have a claim to primacy, all of which were recorded and released at roughly the same time in 1973: Blackboard Jungle Dub produced by Perry and mixed by Tubby; Java Java Java Java, produced by Clive Chin and mixed by Errol Thompson; Aquarius Dub produced and mixed by Herman Chin Loy; and Prince Buster’s The Message Dubwise. The latter three, whilst subdued compared to later dub, are outstanding pieces of work that bear strong testimony to the creativity of this period ofJamaican .





first stereo dub album, as well as the first to include reverb, but it is still considered to be, not only one of Tubby’s and Perry’s finest, but also one of the best examples of the genre per se. I remember the late John Peel, the veteran BBC Radio 1 deejay who, more than any other deejay, promoted dub in Britain during the late-1970s and 1980s, referring to it as one of the best albums he’d heard.9 Similarly, David Katz has referred to it as ‘nothing short of a masterpiece’ and ‘one of the finest dub works ever recorded’ (2005: 135).

U Roy and the significance of toasting
While Tubby’s experimental menu of dub was clearly central to his rapid rise in popularity, it has to be noted that, certainly in Jamaica, the verbal seasoning provided by his sound system deejay consolidated that success. Although U Roy undoubtedly owed much of his own reputation to the dubs Tubby provided, in turn, the sound benefited greatly from U Roy’s ‘toasting’, which became enormously popular in the early 1970s (see Marley 2005). Basically, dub left space for the deejay to improvise. U Roy—nick-named ‘the Originator’, because he was the first deejay to become famous for his toasting abilities10—was able to make full use of the spaces offered to him by dub, eloquently and idiosyncratically extemporising. As Leroy Jodie Pierson comments, his ‘thoughtful lyrics, flawless timing andtotally original style, have earned him legendary status in reggae circles. His phrasing, tonal range, and keen improvisational skill bring to mind the work of jazz tenor sax greats like Coleman Hawkins and Sonny Rollins, and these same qualities have made him the most admired, influential, and imitated DJ of them all’ (2002). Although it has to be said that much of U Roy’s toasting consisted of screams, shouts, rambling sentences, and various catchphrases, it was also a medium for religious, political, and social discourse. Indeed, much toasting during the 1970s was politically and socially homiletic in tone. As Hebdige comments concerning I Roy’s 1977 album Crisus Time, it was ‘filled with sincere fatherly advice. And on his classic single “Black Man Time” (1974) I Roy [Roy Samuel Read] solemnly counsels the youth to leave the street corners and support the literacy programme which the government had just launched’ (1987: 85). Indeed, it is significant that, with

9. Although, rather oddly, preferring to list other of Perry’s contributions in their Reggae: 100 Essential CDs (1999), nevertheless, Barrow and Dalton elsewhere claim that this dub album is his ‘strongest to date’ and ‘one of the half-dozen dub albums that should be in any reggae collection’ (1997: 206). 10. It should be noted that King Stitt (Winston Spark) was, although not as influential as U Roy, the first deejay to make records. Furthermore, it should be noted that toasting overriddims can, perhaps, be traced back to Clement Dodd’s Studio One. Although distinct from deejay toasting, Dodd would record the likes of Larry Marshall singing over imported records.




reference to The Gleaner, a Jamaican daily newspaper, the popular deejay Big Youth (Manley Augustus Buchanan) has been referred to as ‘the human Gleaner’. In other words, the deejay was explicitly understood to comment on contemporary issues and also act as spokesperson for the ghetto communities. He provided the voice of resistance, a voice that has since been spoken in rap, punk, and certain sub-genres of ‘world music’. Bearing in mind the importance and popularity of the deejay, it is perhaps a little surprising that it was not Tubby who first invited U Roy into the studio to record his lyrical contribution. Others were quicker to capitalize on the successful meeting of the engineer and the toaster. The first to usher U Roy into the studio was another early pioneer of dub, Keith Hudson. He has since been followed by numerous influential producers and engineers, including Lee Perry, Bunny Lee (Edward O’Sullivan Lee), Lloyd Daley, Glen Brown, Joe Gibbs (Joel Gibson), Niney the Observer (Winston Holness), Tappa Zukie (David Sinclair), and, in recent years, by the UK’s Mad Professor (Neil Fraser).

The Sorcerer’s Apprentices and rivals
Just as the success of U Roy paved the way for a plethora of otherdeejays to ride the dub sound, so in the production of the music per se, while Tubby arguably dominated the genre in the early 1970s, there were numerous other producers and engineers emerging with new ideas that contributed to its evolution. Some of the most prominent to develop the alchemical art of dub were initially apprentice engineers working with Tubby at his studio and whose own particular styles are evident on some of Tubby’s own releases, most notably ‘Prince’ Philip Smart, Prince Jammy and Scientist (Hopeton Brown). (Scientist’s work became enormously popular in Britain in the late-1970s and early 1980s, particularly his Scientist Heavyweight Dub Champion (1980), Scientist Rids the World of the Evil Curse of the Vampires (1981), and Dub Landing (1981). In conversation with British fans, almost all those introduced to dub in the 1970s and early 1980s mention Scientist initially.) Moreover, Tubby’s small studio became a centre of activity, not only for the emerging Jamaican talent that he was fostering, but also for both long-established producers such as Bunny Lee and Winston Riley and for emerging talent on the international scene, such as Mikey Dread (Michael Campbell) (who also would become enormously important in the UK, not least because of his relationship to The Clash). Indeed, the large amount of work Tubby was being offered led him increasingly to delegate the task to apprentices, particularly his protégé Prince Jammy, who had, inDecember 1976, just returned from a period working in Canada. Two years later Jammy would go on to establish his own label and, in 1978, very significantly for his international reputation, to discover and produce Black Uhuru.




Tubby’s studio, however, was not the only site of dub exploration. A good example of one who was pushing at the boundaries of dub from a very early stage, almost independently of Tubby, was Errol ‘T’ Thompson. Working for Joe Gibbs at Randy’s studio, in 1973 he produced one of the first three dub albums, namely Java Java Java Java (commonly referred to as Java Java Dub). However, perhaps the most important and influential albums produced by Thompson and Gibbs, all of which significantly helped to popularize dub during the 1970s, were the first three ‘chapters’ of African Dub All-Mighty (1975, 1976, 1978).11 Whether it was a barking dog, a flushing toilet, or a ringing telephone, as the series progressed it seems as though few sounds were excluded from the final mix. In the UK, especially African Dub All-Mighty: Chapter 3, which was particularly creative in its eclectic use of sound effects, found enthusiastic listeners amongst post-psychedelic rock fans weaned on Tangerine Dream, Can, Neu, Amon Düül, Gong, Hawkwind, and Brian Eno as well as like-minded punks looking for something new and challenging that was explicitly not progressive rock (see Letts 2007: 118). Indeed,the overall composition methods used by Jamaican producers and engineers would begin to have a significant impact on Western music during the 1970s. While the earlier recordings may have seemed a little crude to the ears of some rock fans, the advent of 16- and 24-track studios enabled engineers to experiment with dub in complex and sophisticated ways that fascinated a growing Anglo-American audience keen to hear new avant-garde sounds. Indeed, it is worth noting here that this was a period during which there was a rapidly widening stream of experimental and ambient forms of music. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that dub quickly found devotees beyond the African-Caribbean communities. What is surprising is that this is sometimes overlooked by historians of popular music. For example, Mark Prendergast’s relatively comprehensive overview of ambient and atmospheric musics, ‘from Mahler to trance’, The Ambient Century, simply neglects any discussion of dub during this period—the genre is only given a couple of pages at the end of the volume (2000: 457–60). Indeed, even his discussions of contemporary artists who have not only been influenced by, but also experimented with dub, such as Bill Laswell, Massive Attack, The Orb, Tricky, and DJ Spooky, lack any substantial analysis of the significance of its techniques for their music. The point is that, as Brian Eno recalls, ‘producers and musicians discovered that tiny sounds could be made huge, and hugeones compacted. And, using echoes and reverberations, those sounds could seem to be located in a virtual space which was entirely imaginary. The act of making music becomes the

11. Two further chapters were also released in 1979 and 1984, but it was the first three that were particularly influential.




art of creating new sonic locations and creating new timbres, new instruments: the most basic materials of the musical experience’ (Eno 2000: xi-xii; see also Doyle 2005). This is both a good description of dub and also helps to understand why the genre was so inspirational for many musicians in the 1970s. Indeed, it’s worth noting here that Eno himself, one of the most important composers for the emergence of contemporary ambient and electronica, became fascinated with the genre in the 1970s: ‘The contemporary studio composer’, he argued at the time, ‘is like a painter who puts things on, puts things together, tries things out, and erases them. The condition of the reggae composer is like that of the sculptor, I think… A guitar will appear for two strums, then never appear again; the bass will suddenly drop out, and an interesting space is created. Reggae [i.e. dub] composers have created a sense of dimension in the music, by the very clever, unconventional use of echo, by leaving out instruments, and by the very open rhythmic structure of the music’ (quoted in Tamm 1995: 35–6).Consequently, this ‘sculptural’ approach to composition, as Eric Tamm comments, ‘influenced Eno’s own way of composing’ (1995: 36), as it did for many other musicians during the 1970s and 80s.

The rise of the Upsetter: Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry
Alongside King Tubby, other innovative producers of dub who found an international audience, particularly in Britain, include Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry, Augustus Pablo (Horace Swaby), Jesus Dread (Vivian Jackson), Glen Brown, and Keith Hudson— the last of whom produced Pick a Dub, the first dub album to be released in the UK. While it is always difficult and perhaps a little artificial to make such judgments, few would disagree that the most influential and culturally significant of these producers was Perry, who is very often cited along with Tubby as a father of the genre (e.g. Corbett 1994: 11; Reynolds 2000: 36; Williams 1997: 146; Kot 1997: 149). Certainly Sherwood, an important British dub producer in his own right, argues that ‘the importance of someone like Lee Perry could not actually be measured’, so significant is it (quoted in Hawkins 1996). Heavily influenced, possibly more than other reggae musicians, by American blues, soul, and rock ’n’ roll he became known initially during the 1960s for his work at Coxsone Dodd’s Studio One. Much of his material during this early period was written for other artists, such as Delroy Wilson and Chenley Duffus. However, following Haile Selassie’s visit to Jamaica on 21 April1966, which deeply moved him, he began increasingly to explore—both musically and personally—Rastafarian ideas (Katz 2000: 41). Unfortunately, this
12. This is, for example, evident in John Corbett’s interview with him: ‘I asked him what music he was listening to at the time, and his answer was unequivocal: “American music! What do you think I am, stupid?! Blues, soul. And I’m a rock man, can’t change that” ’ (1994: 128).





interest in Rastafarianism exacerbated growing tensions in his relationship with Dodd. Although more open to Rasta music and ideology than Reid—who banned it from his studio throughout his entire career (a prejudice which eventually led to the demise of his Treasure Isle label)—and although he would later change his policy towards devotional Rastafarian songs when Marley and others made them lucrative, Dodd’s early antipathy towards the faith and its music frustrated Perry. Moreover, as indicated, this frustration was simply one more crack in an already strained relationship. Not only did Dodd fail to credit Perry for the song writing he had done, but also he did not consider his voice mature enough to sing his own material. He also refused to pay him a fair wage for his services and, sometimes, did not pay him at all. Finally, throughout this period, Perry’s own ideas were developing and, keen to experiment in the studio, he was ‘angry that the musicians had to stiflethemselves in their music… Dodd’s sustained timidity in the musical realm was becoming increasingly bothersome’ (Katz 2000: 41–2). Eventually the relationship became too difficult to sustain and Perry felt constrained to part company with Dodd. In Perry’s words, ‘It was what happening between me and him that I have to leave because I wasn’t getting any justice. And the songs them that I want to sing, him think them wasn’t ready, that I didn’t have a good voice to sing. That is what he think, so I decided that I have something that him no have, so I tell him that I’m going on a holiday. I didn’t go to a holiday, I go to the studio behind him back’ (quoted in Katz 2000: 42). Of course, Perry was in a strong position to go solo, in that, during his work for Dodd, he had gained, not only an enviable reputation, but a great deal of technical knowledge and also many contacts within the Jamaican music industry. One such contact, who he would soon collaborate with, was Dodd’s rival, Prince Buster. Buster is an interesting man, in that, not only was he one of the key figures in the emergence of ska, but he quickly embraced the new more pedestrian and spacious sound of ‘rock steady’—a short term, bridging subgenre between ska and reggae, and, as such, the next musicological step on the way to dub. In rock steady ‘the regularly paced “walking” basslines that ska inherited from r&b became much more broken-up… [The] bass didn’t play on every beat with equal emphasis,but rather played a repeated pattern that syncopated the rhythm. In turn, the bass and drums became much more prominent, with the horns taking on a supportive rather than lead role’ (Barrow and Dalton 1997: 51). This emphasis on a slower, bass-oriented rhythm, in which other instrumentation is secondary, would become central to the dub sound. Following his contribution to Buster’s success, Perry established an important and commercially successful relationship with Joe Gibbs. As a novice in the industry, Gibbs relied heavily on Perry’s expertise as a producer and his well-known



abilities as a talent spotter. The results for Gibbs were swift. Hits by Errol Dunkley, The Mellotones, The Pioneers, and The Versatiles, among others, ensured his position as a prime mover in the Jamaican music industry. However, again, Perry felt that his talents were not being adequately rewarded and, early in 1968, he left Gibbs, convinced again that he needed to develop his own ideas independently. That said, continuing a working relationship with fellow engineer Lynford Anderson, he quickly established the Upset label, and then, finally, branched out on his own to establish the Upsetter label.13 Also in 1968, in need of his own studio band, he approached The Hippy Boys: Aston ‘Family Man’ Barrett (bass), Aston’s brother, Carlton Barrett (drums), Alva Lewis (guitar), Glen Adams (keyboards), and MaxRomeo (vocals). As the band had not experienced much success with the few singles they had released, the offer from Perry seemed too good to refuse. Perry, however, immediately renamed them ‘the Upsetters’. While the first few singles on the Upsetter label proved to be relatively popular, the enormous success of his 1968 release, ‘People Funny Boy’ (the first pressing of which sold 60,000 copies), ensured his future as an independent producer. Indeed, so successful was he at home and abroad that the British label, Trojan, which had been releasing Perry’s work in the UK, launched their own version of the Upsetter label. Apart from the considerable financial benefits—which enabled him to establish the Upsetter Record Shop on Charles Street in the heart of downtown Kingston – the deal was significant because it bore testimony to the rising profile of one who would later be central to the emergence of dub, not only in Jamaica but also in Britain. While a great deal more could be said of Perry’s career (the best study of which is unarguably Katz 2000), our principal area of interest is his work on dub, much of which was developed at the now famous Black Ark Studio, where ‘Perry reckoned he would lay down the Ten Commandments of reggae’ (Sleeper 1997: 160). Indeed, the Black Ark is now viewed through the mists of mythology as the inner sanctum of dub, partly, I suggest, because its name is an inspired signifier, and, of course, it was terminated by amysterious conflagration in 1983.14 The name was, apparently, ‘conceived as an antidote to the Caucasian myth of Noah’s Ark; symbolically likened by Perry to the Ark of the Covenant, it was meant to be a sanctuary for
13. Just as his moniker ‘Scratch’ had been taken from a record he released with Dodd, ‘Chicken Scratch’ (1961), so the name ‘Upsetter’ was another enduring nickname from one of his releases with Gibbs, ‘The Upsetter’ (1968). 14. While members of Perry’s family have insisted that this was the result of an electrical fault, Perry himself has offered conflicting statements. While he has often denied his involvement, he also, just over a year after the event, admitted to incendiary activity: ‘I destroyed the studio. I smashed it up and then I burnt it down. Over!’ (interview with Kelly 1984: 58). Again, in an interview with Katz in 1999, he declared, ‘Of course it’s me who burn it…who else could burn it Good thing I did that’ (2000: 364–5).



black Rastafarians’ (Katz 2000: 182). Again, the fact that he was rumoured to be involved in Obeah15 and frequently spoke of dub in terms of a magical art which exposed and infiltrated the spiritual world, contributed significantly to the mythology of the Black Ark. Perry’s prowess in the genre was directly forecast in early 1973 on his instrumental album Cloak and Dagger (recorded in ‘true stereo’), two versions of which were pressed in London,one for the UK and one for Jamaica. Although the majority of the UK version comprises a collection of instrumentals, the truly avant-garde ‘Caveman Skank’ hints at things to come, in both Perry’s work and also in remix culture generally: ‘a thoroughly experimental and ironic dance number featuring toasting and vocal noises from Perry, along with running water, crashing cars, and voices lifted from an American sound effects record; the number opened with a Native American chief reading a portion of the Bible in Cherokee, and finished with the bustle of a public auction’ (Katz 2000: 165). Again, decades before the imitative realism of projects such as David Holmes’ Let’s Get Killed (1997) and Thomas Brinkmann’s Tokyo (2004)—both of which seek to replicate the noise of the contemporary city—Perry makes creative use of ambient street recordings, sound effects, and solicited comments from the general public. However, if the UK release of Cloak and Dagger foreshadowed the experimental nature of dub, the Jamaican version came very close to being an actual dub ‘showcase’ album. That is to say, it was the first album to have instrumentals followed by versions of the same rhythm in what would come to be known as the ‘showcase’ style (i.e. vocal tracks followed immediately by dub interpretations). Hence, while, strictly speaking, it is not a dub album, it is as close to dub that one can get without actually being dub, in that it introduces many of the ideas thatwere to be developed to great effect a few months later on Blackboard Jungle Dub (1973), which he recorded with King Tubby. More explicitly than Cloak and Dagger, Blackboard Jungle Dub indicated the type of sound that would evolve in the years to come at the Black Ark. As Barrow and Dalton comment, ‘the Black Ark sound exemplified the Jamaican approach of making maximum demands of minimal resources. Sound textures that were unique anyway were developed further through working with four-track equipment, and the necessity of dumping completed tracks onto one track so as to free them for further overdubbing. This meant a loss of what would normally be thought of as “sound quality” every time it occurred, but contributed to the incomparable feel of the Black Ark sound’ (1997: 165; see also Bradley 2000: 328—the best introduction to the Black Ark sound is the triple album Arkology).

15. Similar to ‘Voodoo’ or Santeria, Obeah is an indigenous form of spirituality with its roots in West African religion.





As to the origins of the Black Ark, in 1972, although Perry was at the height of his powers, frustrated by the costs and the constraints of studio time at Randy’s,16 he decided that he needed more space and time in the studio to allow his work to evolve freely. The only way he could be sure to secure the necessary time was by setting up his own studio. Fortunately, his success allowedhim the funds to begin building almost immediately behind his newly purchased house at 5 Cardiff Crescent, Kingston. Perhaps more importantly, however, along with the construction of a space to create, at the end of 1972 he also began his fruitful relationship with King Tubby. However, it is clear that this was not a one-way mentor–student relationship. Indeed, it is difficult to determine the direction of the flow of influence. This confusion is not helped by Perry’s own comments: ‘[Tubby] was brilliant. I thought he was my student. Maybe he thought I was his student. But it makes no matter. I’m not jealous’ (quoted in Barrow and Dalton 1997: 204). Again, less generously, he states, ‘To be fair and speak the truth, it wasn’t… Tubby who brought about dub, but I alone! In those days, Tubby had a sound system and he want dubs for it from me. He’d come to Randy’s studio where I worked at the time and spend days watching me messing about with the controls. As my dubs got famous and people like them, so Tubby try mixing up a few sides of his own’ (from an interview with Kelly 1984: 7). (Tubby, of course, is not now alive to defend his role, having being senselessly shot outside his home by an unknown assailant in 1989.) However, despite Perry’s recollection of the relationship, it has to be said that the evidence suggests the contrary, in that, in the early stages it is likely that Tubby was the teacher (see Ehrlich 1983). As Perry’s biographer comments, in theearly years of their relationship ‘Perry began to use Tubby’s skills with increasing frequency’ (Katz 2000: 159). That said, Perry was an excellent student and, we have seen, quickly found ways to articulate his own sonic creativity. Indeed, some of Tubby’s early work is explicitly indebted to him, one of the first discs mixed at Tubby’s studio being Perry’s ‘French Connection’ (available on Complete UK Upsetter Singles Collection, Vol. 4). By the end of 1973, however, as his producing skills were becoming honed, the Black Ark was operational and, with his creativity no longer curtailed, he began producing some of reggae’s most significant and influential records—many of which found an appreciative and enthusiastic following in the UK.17 With wiring
16. The principal rival to Dodd’s Studio One, Randy’s was a four-track studio situated above Randy’s Record Mart, 17 North Parade, downtown Kingston. It was established by Vincent Chin in late 1968, at the same time that reggae emerged, and quickly became the studio of choice for reggae musicians. Indeed, it is arguable that reggae per se started in Randy’s studio (see Bradley 2000: 202; Katz 2004: 126–7). 17. All of the singles released in the UK on Trojan’s Upsetter label are now available as the four-volume Complete UK Upsetter Singles Collection.






installed by Errol Thompson, the studio was equipped with some of the best off-the-shelfequipment available in Jamaica: four-track Soundcraft board; Teac 3340 recorder for new material and ‘a quarter-inch two-track Teac on which to mix down’; an Echoplex delay unit; Roland space echo; and a phaser unit (Bradley 2000: 325; Katz 2000: 180). That said, initially Perry’s work was constrained a little by his silver Alice mixing desk, which he had picked up in England for, he recalls, less than £35. He also had ‘an electric piano and a cheap copy of a Clavinet, a Marantz amplifier and speaker for guitar or keyboard use and a small drum kit… He also had a Grantham spring reverb and a tape-echo unit for effects’ (Katz 2000: 180–1).18 The results were immediate, uncompromising, and successful. From ‘Hurt So Good’ by Susan Cadogan, which was to be an enormous success in Britain in 1975, to Max Romeo’s ‘War Ina Babylon’ and Junior Murvin’s ‘Police and Thieves’—which would be particularly influential within punk and post-punk subcultures—as well as seminal reggae albums, such as The Heptones’ Party Time and, especially, The Congos’ Heart of the Congos, Perry produced a string of critically acclaimed international successes. ‘His rhythm-building, tune deconstructing or extending of an original idea often went way past the point at which logic tells most people to stop, into a place where the instrumentation took on ethereal qualities’ (Bradley 2000: 325). Unlike Tubby, he would not simply deconstruct and manipulate existing material by others, but rather,began by recording his own material using his own studio band. He would then ‘sculpt away at his vast stockpile of rhythms and tunes, adding, chipping bits off, echoing, distorting, and stirring in just about anything that took his fancy—his children’s toys were always popular, notably the moo-cow box (turn it upside down and it moos), as were snatches of TV dialogue’ (Bradley 2000: 326; see also Eshun 1998: 65). Hence, whereas Tubby made very effective use of reverb, what distinguished Perry’s dub was the layers of sound he built up. Indeed, the reverb tended to be understated, being utilized simply to give the sound depth.19 The layering, on the other hand, gave it a level of luxuriant density unusual in reggae. The effect is striking. So much so that, as noted above of dub per se, it is not unusual for Perry’s work to be described using semi-mystical or even alchemical or paranormal wordplay (which, it has to be said, can, at times,
18. Katz continues by making the significant point that ‘perhaps the most vital piece of equipment’ at the Black Ark ‘was a copy of the Bible, which not only served to consecrate the studio as a holy place, but could also be a source of inspiration for song lyrics’ (2000: 181). 19. As Doyle comments of reverb per se, it ‘does much to define what we perceive as timbre, volume and sound colouration, and largely determines our perception of how particular sounds are located, whether they are near or far. If all real-worldsounds were to be somehow stripped of their cloaking of reverberation, it would be a wholly disorienting, dead, almost spaceless and depthless world’ (2005: 38).





appear pretentious). Kodwo Eshun is not untypical in this respect: ‘Return of the Super Ape is dub that disturbs the atmosphere until it yields poltergeists. Arriving ahead of cause, sound turns motiveless, premonitional, inexplicable… The wind of Baudelaire’s wings of madness sends sound effects careering across living space… The Black Ark studio switches on a technology-magic discontinuum. Operating the mixing desk demand you explore its network of altering spaces. Perry crosses into its ghost dimension, walks through the temporal maze of aural architecture’ (1998: 63, 65). However it was understood, there is little doubt concerning the impact of his dub in the 1970s. Revolution Dub (1975) and particularly the seminal Super Ape (1976)—which some consider to be ‘the best dub reggae album ever made’ (Bradley 2000: 328)—both produced at the Black Ark, very quickly elevated Perry to a level of international recognition that few could rival, including King Tubby.

Concluding comments
The Black Ark was never the centre for dub that 18 Dromily Avenue was. As Barrow and Dalton comment, ‘the sheer number of producers who used Tubby meant that he always had more than enough rhythms to mix, and with which he could experimentendlessly’ (1997: 204). Hence, as indicated above, there is a sense in which, even today, Tubby’s work sounds more explicitly avant-garde and experimental than Perry’s. While we have noted that one of the principal reasons for Tubby’s experimentation was economic—making the most of existing rhythms and sounds—‘had the remixes not sounded completely fresh they would not have been so successful and their freshness was the result of both musical imagination and engineering ingenuity’ (ibid.). With a keener sonic curiosity than Perry (though, again, such judgments are necessarily speculative and rather artificial), Tubby was, as we have noted, continually inventing and modifying his own studio equipment, experimenting with the growing stream of tapes that came into his studio, and on the look out for new ways of manipulating and augmenting the sound. ‘The sheer volume of work enabled Tubby to develop a sound in his dub mixes that is as recognisable as the Phil Spector wall of sound or the Sun Records echo chamber’ (Barrow 1995: 31; see also Doyle 2005: 163–77). Excellent examples of this can be found on Augustus Pablo’s King Tubbys Meets the Rockers Uptown (1977) and King Tubby Meets Roots Radics: Dangerous Dub (1981), as well as recent excellent compilations of his work, notably Dub Gone Crazy: The Evolution of Dub at King Tubby’s 1975–1979 (1994), Dub Gone 2 Crazy: In Fine Style (1975–1979) (1996), Dub Like Dirt (1999) and Select Cuts 100% of Dub (2005).Hence, again, if there is a father of dub, it is King Tubby, not Lee Perry. While it is generally agreed that the first dub album to be released in the UK was Keith Hudson’s 1974 classic Pick a Dub, the record that more than any other





led to the success of the dub album format in Britain was that which most obviously brings the work of Tubby and Perry together at the Grass Roots of Dub (1974). A good example of the genius of both (although they have each done better work individually), it marks the beginning of a fascination beyond Jamaica’s shores with the composition methods developed by reggae producers and engineers. Concerning that fascination, which has been noted above, it is worth briefly mentioning the subtle influence dub had on the prominent, experimental folk-rock musician John Martyn. After releasing Sunday’s Child (1974), exhausted and suffering from stress—particularly following the loss of his close friends, Nick Drake and then Paul Kossoff—he stopped touring and took a break from studio recording. Eventually, in the summer of 1976, at the suggestion of Chris Blackwell (the owner of Island Records), he left the UK to spend some time in Jamaica in order to recoup his creative energy. While staying with the Blackwell family on their large Strawberry Hill estate outside Kingston, he was taken to meet Perry at the Black Ark. Fascinated by Perry’sapproach to production, he sat in on some of his recording sessions, contributed to several tracks and even guested on Burning Spear’s classic album Man in the Hills (1976). Inspired and reinvigorated by his exposure to reggae and particularly to Black Ark dub, he returned to the UK and, in the summer of 1977, recorded his ethereal One World. Produced by Blackwell, it is not difficult to discern the subtle influence of dub. This is particularly evident on the track ‘Big Muff’ (co-written by Perry) and on the final track, the delicately beautiful ‘Small Hours’. Martyn, of course, had already revealed a penchant for sonic manipulation and dub-like experimentalism on his classic Solid Air (1973) and then again on Inside Out (1973). Hence, there was an easy continuity between his early work and the understated explorations of mood on One World. Having used, for example, the echoplex and a phase shifter to introduce hypnotic, atmospheric musical textures, Martyn gently bridged the gap between the smoke-filled bedsits and bedrooms of Britain’s suburbia and the mesmerizing soundscapes created by Kingston’s dub pioneers. More particularly, as noted at the outset, the significance of dub for the development of contemporary dance music, hip-hop, and electronica cannot be seriously questioned. Bearing in mind that the 1970s was a period during which there was a rapidly widening stream of experimental and ambient forms of music, it is hardly surprising that dub quicklyfound devotees beyond the Afro-Caribbean communities. By the 1990s eclectic sampling technologies and methodologies had not only become almost de rigueur within dub culture, but had begun to shape the progress of dance, electronica, and digital music. King Tubby met the Upsetter at the grass roots of dub and the rest is .






References
Barrow, S. 1994. ‘Dub Gone Crazy’. Liner notes to King Tubby, Dub Gone Crazy: The Evolution of Dub at King Tubby’s 1975–1979. Blood & Fire. —1995. ‘Version Therapy’. The Wire 132: 28–32. Barrow, S., and Dalton, P. 1997. Reggae: The Rough Guide. London: Rough Guides. —1999. Reggae: 100 Essential CDs. London: Rough Guides. Bradley, L. 2000. This is Reggae Music: The Story of Jamaica’s Music. New York: Grove Press; published in the UK as Bass Culture: When Reggae Was King. London: Viking, 2000. Chang, K. O., and Chen, W. 1998. Reggae Routes: The Story of Jamaican Music. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Colegrave, S., and Sullivan, C. 2001. Punk: A Life Apart. London: Cassell. Corbett, J. 1994. Extended Play: Sounding Off from John Cage to Dr. Funkenstein. Durham, NC: Duke University Press. Cox, C., and Warner, D., eds. 2004. Audio Culture: Readings in Modern Music. New York: Continuum. Doyle, P. 2005. Echo and Reverb: Fabricating Space in Popular Music Recording 1900–1960. Middletown, OH: Wesleyan University Press. Ehrlich,L. 1983. ‘X-Ray Music: The Volatile History of Dub’. In Reggae International, eds S. Davis and P. Simon, 105–109. London: Thames & Hudson. Eno, B. 2000. ‘Foreword’. In M. Prendergast, The Ambient Century, xi–xii. London: Bloomsbury. Eshun, K. 1998. More Brilliant than the Sun: Adventures in Sonic Fiction. London: Quartet. Frith, S. 1996. Performing Rites: Evaluating Popular Music. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hawkins, E. 1996. ‘The Secret History of Dub: Reggae Historians Delve Into the Dub Chamber’. Eye Weekly, 18 April. Available at: https://www.eye.net/eye/issue/issue_04.18.96/ MUSIC/mf0418a.htm (accessed 8 August 2005). Hebdige, D. 1987. Cut ‘N’ Mix: Culture, Identity, and Caribbean Music. London: Routledge. Katz, D. 2000. People Funny Boy: The Genius of Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry. Edinburgh: Payback Press. —2004. Solid Foundation: An Oral History of Reggae. London: Bloomsbury. —2005. ‘Upsetters: 14 Dub Blackboard Jungle’. Q/Mojo Bob Marley and Reggae Special Edition—Q Classic 1/6: 135. Kelly, D. 1984. ‘Lee Perry’. New Musical Express. 17 November: 6-7, 58. Also available at: https:// www.uncarved.org/dub/scratch.html (accessed 11 August 2005). Kot, G., 1997. ‘Instrument of Expression’. In Reggae, Rasta, Revolution: Jamaican Music from Ska to Dub, ed. C. Potash, 149–51. London: Books With Attitude. Lesser, B. 2002. King Jammy’s. Toronto: ECW Press. Letts, D. 2007. Culture Clash: Dread Meets Punk Rockers. London: SAF Publishing. Manuel, P., and Marshall,W. 2006. ‘The Riddim Method: Aesthetics, Practice, and Ownership in Jamaican Dancehall’. Popular Music 25: 447–70. Marley, B. 2005. ‘The Primer: Jamaican Deejays’. The Wire 262: 42–9. Pierson, L. J. 2002. Liner notes for U-Roy: The Lost Album—Right Time Rockers. Heart Beat. Prendergast, M. 2000. The Ambient Century: From Mahler to Trance—The Evolution of Sound in the Electronic Age. London: Bloomsbury. Reynolds, S. 2000. ‘Back to the Roots’. The Wire 199: 34–9. Sleeper, M. 1997. ‘Shocks of the Mighty’. In Reggae, Rasta, Revolution: Jamaican Music from Ska to Dub, ed. C. Potash, 157–62. London: Books With Attitude. Stolzoff, N. C., 2000. Wake the Town and Tell the People: Dancehall Culture in Jamaica. Durham, NC: Duke University Press.



330



Tamm, E. 1995. Brian Eno: His Music and the Vertical Colour of Sound. New York: Da Capo. Toop, D. 1995. Ocean of Sound: Aether Talk, Ambient Sound and Imaginary Worlds. London: Serpent’s Tail. Veal, M.E., 2007. Dub: Soundscapes and Shattered Songs in Jamaican Reggae. Middletown, OH: Wesleyan University Press. Williams, R. 1997. ‘The Sound Surprise’. In Reggae, Rasta, Revolution: Jamaican Music from Ska to Dub, ed. C. Potash, 145–8. London: Books With Attitude.

Discography
Anhrefn. 1989. BWRW CWRW: The Ariwa Sound and Studio One Sessions. Workers Playtime. Babazula and The Mad Professor. 2003. Ruhani Oyun Havalari. Double Moon. Big Youth. 1973. ScreamingTarget. Trojan. Brinkmann, Thomas. 2004. Tokyo. max.E. Burning Spear. 1976. Man in the Hills. Island. Chin, Clive. 1973. Java Java Java Java. Impact. The Congos. 1977. The Heart of the Congos. Black Ark. Edwards, Rupie, and Friends. 1974. Yamaha Skank. Success. A longer version was released in 1990: Let There Be Version. Trojan. Gibbs, Joe, and Errol Thompson. 1975. African Dub All-Mighty. Lightning. —1975. African Dub All-Mighty: Chapter 2. Joe Gibbs. —1978. African Dub All-Mighty: Chapter 3. Lightning. —1979. African Dub All-Mighty: Chapter 4. Joe Gibbs. —1984. African Dub All-Mighty: Chapter 5. Joe Gibbs. The Heptones. 1977. Party Time. Island. Holmes, David. 1997. Let’s Get Killed. Go! Beat. Hudson, Keith. Pick A Dub. Atra Records, 1974; Blood & Fire, 1994. I Roy. 1976. Crisus Time. Virgin. King Tubby. 1994. Dub Gone Crazy: The Evolution of Dub at King Tubby’s 1975–1979. Blood & Fire. —2005. Select Cuts 100% of Dub. Select Cuts. King Tubby and Lee Perry. 1974. at the Grass Roots of Dub. Fay. King Tubby and Prince Jammy. 1996. Dub Gone 2 Crazy: In Fine Style (1975-1979). Blood & Fire. King Tubby and Roots Radics. 1981. King Tubby Meets Roots Radics: Dangerous Dub. Copasetic, 1981. King Tubby and Friends. 1999. Dub Like Dirt. Blood & Fire. Loy, Herman Chin. 1973. Aquarius Dub. Aquarius. Martyn, John. 1973. Solid Air. Island. —1973. Inside Out. Island. —1974. Sunday’s Child. Island. —1977. One World. Island. Morris,Sylvan. 1975. Morris on Dub. Jaywax. Morris, Sylvan, and Harry J. 1978. Cultural Dub. Pablo, Augustus. 1977. King Tubbys Meets the Rockers Uptown. Clocktower. Penn, Dawn. 1994. No, No, No. Big Beat Records. Perry, Lee. 1973. Blackboard Jungle Dub. Upsetter. Available as: Lee Perry. 2004. Upsetter 14 Blackboard Jungle Dub. Auralux. Available on: Lee Perry. 2004. Dub-Triptych. Trojan/ Sanctuary.





Cloak and Dagger. Rhino. Available on: Lee Perry. 2004. Dub-Triptych. Trojan/ Sanctuary. —1975. Revolution Dub. Cactus. Available on: Lee Perry. 2004. Dub-Triptych. Trojan/ Sanctuary. —1976. Super Ape. Upsetter/Island. —1977. Return of the Super Ape. Lion of Judah. —1997. Arkology. Island. —1997. Technomajikal. ROIR. —1998–2002. Complete UK Upsetter Singles Collection: Vols. 1–4. Trojan. Prince Buster. The Message Dubwise. Fab UK. Rhythm and Sound. 2005. See Mi Yah. Burial Mix. —2003. The Versions. Burial Mix. The Ruts. 2006. Babylon’s Burning Reconstructed: Dub Drenched Soundscapes. Collision. Scientist. 1980. Scientist Heavyweight Dub Champion. Greensleeves. —1981. Scientist Rids the World of the Evil Curse of the Vampires. Greensleeves. —1981. Dub Landing. Starlight. Stamper Doctor. 1979. Dub Zone. Teams. Thievery Corporation. 2006. Versions. ESL Music. Wobble, Jah. 2006. Jah Wobble and The English Roots Band. 30 Hertz.